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[CozyRanger]

Bryliax Ralaferin
Interactions: LadyOfStars RikuXIII

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As that magical flame burst into existence and set a gentle orange glow over their pale surroundings, the Grey Warden paused in her arranging of the fire. She didn't have a magical bone in her body, used to relying on nature to provide all she needed to survive. Now there was a mage with fire, she felt little need to waste time rubbing sticks together to cause a spark. A large hand gestured to the campfire, suggesting Manis use his mastery of the elements to make her job easier.

"I've not had many chances to fight alongside mages. There are plenty in the Grey Wardens, of course, but I'm usually assigned to tasks alone or in a small group." Just the way she liked it, if she was honest. The more you add to a group, the more she felt the need to protect. It was easier to track your allies when there was only one or two. She considered how a mage with such talents could control a larger battlefield, though, and it excited her. She longed to experience it.

Assuming the fire was lit, she held her hands over the flames to warm them and then tucked them under her armpits to keep them going cold. "I think it's clear where my talents lie." She nodded her head towards the battleaxe she had set down. "My position is on the frontline in a battle, holding the monsters back and praying to the Creators that my axe is enough to bring them down if I'm travelling solo."

As the subject of books and reading was discussed, the Warden went quiet, content to listen whilst she had nothing to offer.

"You must have a great deal of patience, Aasha, to be able to do what you do."

 

[blue UP]

“Eh, of course I talk about the Stone like that. The Stone birthed us, and when we die, we go back to it. The Stone don’t care what we do the middle, and it sure as shit don’t have a taint.” Grem could tell that he had pissed off the human. While he would usually take an interest in poking at the subject, some more like a wound trying to heal, he instead let his arms fall to his side. “Aye, but I get it—if you started spittin’ about how you’d wipe your ass with the Stone or whatever weird things you lot do up here—I’d be fumin’. While I ain’t no follower of Andraste, I’ll be sure to keep her precious visage out of my mouth. Specially if we’re goin’ to work together.”

Grem focused on the human, noting that he was aware of something else afoot in the basement. It only took a half-breath longer to see a figure darken the doorway of the already dark basement. He nearly spit—again. The human remarked to the other figure, one that was seemingly more effeminate than the holy man but hardly much different. That was the nature of things, right? You’re on the surface; be prepared to be nagged by so many humans.

He caught the little glance the holy man gave him, and a wry smile crossed his lips. “Eh? Did business with the Lord of Fortunes once. That was an experience.” He didn’t care to elaborate further. “Right. Bloody feck, I forgot about introductions. Grem Roecudan. Carta representative, though I’m sure you also already figured that out. Not a smuggler. I take care of you tall lot that love to get busy with demons.”

^{MENTIONS none INTERACTIONS cwosont orpheus.} ​

 

[elanara]

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E L R I A N
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It's obvious what he was when he walked up to them. Black feathers around the shoulders with a faint indigo hue. Indigo lined cloak over a blackish-indigo sable doublet. A steel, crow-shaped clasp holding said cloak together at the base of his neck and collarbone. Not to mention his sword and the slew of knives strapped to his belt. Didn’t take a genius to figure out he was an Antivan Crow—a member of the deadliest assassin organization in all of Thedas.

That’s right—for some reason Elrian couldn't explain, the Crows got wrapped up in helping fight off the end of the world. He was aware that a former member of his house assisted in a similar matter years ago. And now, apparently, it was his turn to do the same.

Couldn't say he was too happy about that. He was much more content working by his own damn self alone, dealing with one target at a time at a pace he was free to set at—for the most part—his own leisure. But alas—his superiors gave him orders. And Elrian, being the ever most loyal servant person he was, accepted the task—reluctantly, begrudgingly, and with the greatest look of displeasure on his scarred up face.

This is how he found himself standing in the freezing fucking cold in a small village tucked away in the Frostback Mountains.

They called it Haven. Elrian didn't know why. Didn't look or feel like much of one. The place was in a state of near ruin after being destroyed years back, though it appeared in certain areas they had attempted to rebuild. Most of the townsfolk he passed on his way to the meeting place flat out ignored him, and those that didn't only regarded him with unwelcoming stares. Understandable. Given their history, he could see why they were wary of outsiders.

At any rate.

As he continued walking, the monument finally came into sight. As did two figures, both women. One human, and one staff-wielding elf. A mage.

God fucking dammit.

Elrian stopped dead in his tracks just then, fists clenching tightly at his sides, and it was all he could do to keep from turning right around and heading back the way he came. He strongly fucking disliked hated—was it hate or was it fear, hm?—mages. Didn't matter what they were: elf, human, Qunari. A mage was a mage. He didn't like em. Didn't trust em. He sure as shit didn't feel like working with one of them, either. But he couldn't just turn around and leave. To go against the orders of the Antivan Crows would not be in his best interest. And he knew nothing good happened to those that did.

Taking in a deep breath, Elrian exhaled sharply through his nostrils. Stuffed his anger someplace six feet under years of endless screams and a thousand sleepless nights. He buried it there. Slammed the lid shut. Then he relaxed his fists, and, with another deep breath, pushed forward.

The two women were engaged in conversation when Elrian finally approached, the frozen ground crunching beneath his footsteps.

A sudden gust of wind just then. Sharp and bitter cold. All the way down to the bone. The hood covering his head fluttered in its wake, and a rogue strand of red hair fell across his face, briefly acting as a divider between the half that was perfectly smooth and unblemished, and the other half that was scarred to all hell. With a gloved hand he pushed it back behind a pointed ear.

"Apologies for interrupting." Elrian uttered, flatly. Though he was an Antivan Crow, he lacked the Antiva accent. If anything, his was more plain sounding, which meant he was from somewhere else.

Not that that was important right now.

For a brief moment, he turned his head and glanced at the large slab of stone with the names of the dead etched into it. Regarded it haphazardly with a "Hmph," before snapping his attention back to the two in front of him. His eyes landed on the elf for less than a second. The look on his face was even colder than the air around them.

But then the coldness in his gaze melted away, leaving behind a more casual, neutral expression, landing somewhere between not too friendly, yet not an enemy, either.

"I'm here at the request of the Chantry." He said, turning to the human this time. "I take it the two of you are as well?"

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WITH: JOHANNA & OCTAVIA | MENTIONS: ThatGuyWithSouvlaki and KingofAesir

 

[ThatGuyWithSouvlaki]

Name:
Johana Marie de Penthièvre
Mentions:
KingofAesir elanara
Interactions:
KingofAesir elanara
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Johana had felt foolish in front of the necromancer, showing too much of her doubt and pain to a person who she barely knew. Yet, she did not know what she wanted to happen. Part of her wants to just say something and interrupt any answer to the question, making some excuse and leaving. Another though, wanted an answer, wanted any comfort she could get from the strange women ahead of him. It was a strange sense of indecision, one she did not like and she wished she grew some spine and just make a decision finally. However, the choice was taken from her, she heard someone approach and turned to see a red haired man approached them. The man's facial scars and flowing red hair were striking, but what she noted more was a contained anger which seemed to be a match to her own angst. Where did that come from? She could not help be curious, though the choice stolen from her by his distraction did not exactly help him gain favour from her at all.

Another person, another complication she did not need, and she really wished she could just leave for her room and be at peace until she was needed for some mission. However, she was an agent of the inquisition in service to the Chantry and therefore something of a host to this meeting. She had to play the guide, those were her orders. She took a deep breath and turned to him, making sure to focus on him fully. He had the build of a warrior, however the plumed black feathers and dark clothing implied not just a soldier of an average organization.

"Indeed, you are in the right place, crow. I hope you're here for what you say instead of using a brazen attempt to get to your target." She replied. Her tone was as flat as him and with her expression it was hard to tell whether she was being genuinely suspicious or just giving him a little hard time because of his interruption. "I am Johana Marie De Penthièvre, agent of the Inquisition and aid to the Inquisitor. We are still waiting to be called in for the briefing on why we are here. You haven't missed anything yet, latecomer" She said in a rehearsed monotone like saying what she was required to say. .

 

[RikuXIII]

Aasha
Mentions:
Interactions: LadyOfStars CozyRanger​

Aasha suppressed a grimace as as Manis spoke again. He was also being cagey about his past and capabilities, much like herself. The demon was making her too paranoid. Gaining trust was a game of give and take. You had to let the target think you were opening up to them to coax them to do the same. Even with her recent experience with a mage, she needed to remember how this game was played.
"Such books aren't exactly approved of, no." The Qunari conceded to Manis. "But there are things permitted a Ben-Hassrath when in the field. Like you, my interest in Tethris' writin' was analyzin' his more historic writings for information. Other books of his were...generously given by people thinkin' I liked his works."
"And you wouldn't jump at the chance to get a signed copy from the dwarf, would you?" The demon teased.
Aasha rubbed her nose to cover her discomfort at the demon's insertions into her thoughts. It was clear it was enjoying itself here. Aasha found her gaze drifting to Brayliax. The Gray Warden seemed an open book compared to the shadowy game of intrigue she and Manis were imbroiled in. No need for lies, just a firm purpose and methods. Here and now with everything she had been through, Aasha was very envious of Braylaix.
"The impatient die quickly in my work." She said to the Warden in a distant tone. Her gaze switched to the fire.
She continued to watch the fire, the weight of the situation settling on her. Despite all her training and resolve, she felt lost.
"Do you think we can actually pull people together to save the world this time?" Came Aasha's voice, speaking her inner thoughts.
There was a moment of shock on Aasha's face as she realized the demon had voiced her thoughts to the others. She regained control and gave her two companions an apologetic smile.
"Sorry. Again, long journey."

 

[KingofAesir]

coded by xayah.ღ

Octavia Reinhardt

Haven Memorial

The sudden arrival of the Antivan Crow added a peculiar energy to the already intriguing scene at the monument. Octavia had spotted the man’s dark silhouette approaching from the corner of her eye before he stopped in his tracks, his entire demeanor screaming reluctance. Oh, how interesting. Octavia was positively brimming with excitement. His distinctive attire left little doubt about who he was—or at least what he was.

Her curiosity sparked anew, she glanced briefly at Johana, perhaps to assess her reaction to their new friend, before turning her attention back to the newcomer. His hesitation at approaching was palpable, his fists clenched and body tense as if stepping closer might physically pain him. She did so enjoy the drama of it all.

"Well, now," she said with a soft chuckle, folding her arms loosely across her chest. "You look like you just saw a wraith walk out of the Fade, good ser. I assure you, we’re far less menacing than that."

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze assessing but not unkind. "I’d tell you there’s nothing to worry about, but I do tend to have a habit of keeping people on their toes. Makes life more exciting, don’t you think?"

Without waiting for his response, Octavia returned her attention back to Johana, the somberness of their earlier conversation not entirely forgotten. "As for your question," she said gently, "I think you’re right. The dead may not notice such things as we think of it. But spirits do; they can see and appreciate differently than we."

She paused, letting the words settle between them before adding with a small, wry smile, "Besides, I happen to think the Maker appreciates a good aesthetic. Don’t you agree?"

Then, with an almost theatrical pivot, she turned back toward the Crow, her grin widening. "But where are my manners? I am Octavia Reinhardt of the Mourn Watch," she declared, extending her hand toward him with the same flourish she’d offered Johana earlier. "And you, my fashionable friend? What foreboding a Crow brings to this little piece of frozen misery."



ThatGuyWithSouvlaki

elanara